


If I Should Fall

by ShatteredSwallowtail



Series: Taming Dragons [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24017014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatteredSwallowtail/pseuds/ShatteredSwallowtail
Summary: Sequal to Nameday. Even the most perfect days can go wrong. But even if you stumble, someone will catch you when you fall.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: Taming Dragons [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733218
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	If I Should Fall

The night breeze was cold, carrying chips of frosted ice within its breathtaking sharpness, but if the lone figure seated atop the cliff felt it, he gave no outward sign. Not even so much as a shiver as the harsh wind made play with stray whisps of long silver hair. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on one particular window amidst hundreds in that dark hulk of stone that made up Ishgard. Haurchefaunt’s memorial stone was his only companion as he remained unmoving even as snow began to collect on the thick blue wool of his cloak. Not just any blue…. The same blue of House Borel. Matching the inscribed silver clasp that he had his hand closed over, keeping the cloak pulled tightly to him.

He didn’t deserve to wear the damned thing. Not after… Gritting his teeth, Estinien closed his eyes and tried to ignore his inner voice. It was too insufferable to bear right now, and besides… none of this would have happened if Aymeric had just let it go in the first place. It had all started out so well, he should have known that everything would go wrong. His lover had tracked him down somehow - he would make a wager that Vidofnir had something to do with it - and surprised him with a visit the day before his own oft-forgotten nameday. And though he had grumbled about it, rolled his eyes, and behaved as though he were thoroughly put out… it had been the most meaningful thing that Aymeric could have done. He’d never cared much for the trappings of finery, or the rules of decorum by which the knight lived his life, but just the fact that Aymeric had put all of that aside… all of that so important work aside…. For _him_ had meant the world to him. 

There was no greater gift, or so he had thought until that next morning when he had been awakened by gentle kisses and the smell of warm raspberry tarts to find soft blue eyes watching him with an expectant smile...and a wrapped parcel on a tray beside his breakfast. Spoiling him again, he had groused, even as his heart had done little flips at the notion that Aymeric had thought to do such things for him. Not even a snarky comment about housewives and how his lover was becoming more and more like one seemed to shake that grin and he had finally conceded defeat and opened the gift. Only to have words fail him.

Aymeric seemed to have taken the silence as a bad sign, as he hastily made to explain the reasoning behind his choice of gift, but Estinien hadn’t needed it and instead of words he had merely pressed a gentle finger to his lover’s lips to silence him as his other hand stroked the soft blue wool. Borel blue, an obvious and outward symbol that to Aymeric….he was family. That he was special and chosen and treasured, that he _belonged_. Words hadn’t been needed and he hadn’t been too proud to blink back tears before tray and cloak and tea were set aside so that he could show his lord just how much he loved his gift. It had been a wonderful day, and the day or two after it had been just as magical, if calling them thusly wasn’t horribly cliche.

And then it had fallen apart.

It was sunset, and they were alone in Estinien’s small camp in the hills, with him seated on a small log and Aymeric seated on the ground between his knees, leaning his head back against Estinien’s stomach as the dragoon idly combed fingers through black curls. Both of them somehow wrapped up in his new cloak as they watched the flames curl. A peaceful last night together before Aymeric and his party returned to Ishgard and Estinien took up his wandering again, and he wondered if his lord was trying as hard as he was not to think about it. Resigned to not thinking about it, he had found himself jolted out of the peaceful wanderings of his mind when Aymeric had spoken up softly from in front of him.

“Would you ever want to?”

His expression must had shown how clueless he was as to what exactly the shorter man was referring, as Aymeric gave a soft chuckle before fingering the blue wool draped over his arm. “Make it official. You and I, I mean. It’s not as though there is any law forbidding it, and I just wondered-”

“No.” The single word had sounded so harsh as he said it, and inwardly Estinien flinched at how it must have sounded, shaking his head and wishing that his lord had just kept the thought to himself. It was hardly a thought he himself hadn’t entertained; Aymeric was _his_ and it there were a feasible way to shout it to all of Ishgard he’d have done it long ago. But there were other factors to consider. “I mean…. We can’t, my lord.”

And Fury damn him, Aymeric just couldn’t take that ‘no’ for an answer, could he? He couldn’t leave it unsaid, couldn’t just accept that some things were outside of the realm of possibility and just not meant to be. That it didn’t matter how badly Estinien would want such a thing if they were simply two men who could do what they desired. They weren’t. And while he himself gave not a rats ass what the world thought of him… Aymeric was different. Ishgard _needed_ Aymeric, he was the heart and soul of the place and the key to the future that so many had fought and died for and Estinien would be damned if he allowed his own selfish desires to jeopardize that. But unlike Aymeric, he wasn’t gifted with words. He didn’t possess the ability to turn a phrase into silvered honey and draw the venom and hurt out of it while still making his point clear.

They had quarreled, and while it was hardly the first time such a thing had happened...this had been different, and had culminated in sharp words and shouting on both sides until he had declared that the day he put a ring on someone’s finger would be the day that Ishgard crumbled into ruin and if Aymeric couldn’t deal with that then he could find someone else’s twelve-damned finger to shove one on. He had regretted the words the moment they left his lips and he’d seen those blue eyes widen in hurt. Had seen the subtle shine in them as Aymeric had swallowed hard and then he’d seen no more. Because he had turned and vanished into the darkness without another word. Like a bloody damned coward.

That had been almost 2 months ago. A month of avoiding Ishgard - hells, Coerthas itself - entirely and focusing on anything else he could think of to distract himself from the emotions he didn’t want to deal with. It was Aymeric’s fault… but it was his fault as well, and he wasn’t so foolish as to not realize that. After almost 5 weeks of avoidance, he had snuck back into Ishgard. Not to talk, not to be seen, just…. To look. Because if he was honest with himself, he _needed_ to see Aymeric. Just to see that face, to reassure himself...that he hadn’t unthinkingly destroyed the one he loved so much it frightened him.

What he had found had been almost worse. Leaning against the wall outside of a window, listening in on a meeting between Aymeric and several of the other members of the House of Lords as one of them laughingly brought up the subject of a family alliance through marriage. Obviously thinking his own daughter would be a wonderful match for the man who some liked to say had ‘single handedly’ saved Ishgard. Which was ridiculous in itself, but that hadn’t been the part of it that had given him a sick feeling in his chest. Hells, he’d told Aymeric to find ‘some other finger’ to put a ring on….but he hadn’t meant it. Not like that, never like that, and he’d be damned if he let some vapid highborn….wench take what was his. Unless….what if that was what Aymeric _wanted_? What if he’d taken Estinien’s words to heart...and decided to move on? His inner panic had ground to a halt as that familiar voice had rumbled in a dry chuckle before speaking a polite denial. No, he had no plans for such a thing. No time to focus on anything other than his work, and besides…. There had been someone, once. But they had made it abundantly clear how repulsive they found the idea, and so he was resolved to remain as he was. Questions about children were deftly turned away with comments that were the notion of fatherhood to appeal to him, perhaps he would take in a fosterling as he himself had been taken in so many years ago.

It hadn’t been the words that had stopped his thoughts in their tracks...it had been the tone in which they had been said. Hollow, empty….in a way that he hadn’t heard before, and that emptiness cut deeper than anything else. _He_ had done that. With carelessly cruel words, he had damaged something that he didn’t know how to fix. And he’d fled again, cursing himself the whole way and hating his own cowardice. It had been another two weeks before he had found himself where he was now. Seated beside their lost comrade’s tomb and despising himself for his own weakness and the fact that he didn’t know what to do to fix this. The obvious answer was to go to Aymeric and apologize. To try again to explain that it wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ that, but that he wasn’t worth losing everything that his lord had worked so hard for. And Fury take him, he _did_ want it. He wanted the whole Twelves’ damned _world_ to know that Aymeric was his and Nidhogg take the man or woman who tried to take him away and right now he would go shout it in the center of the Tribunal if doing so would fix this. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t. The only option was the one he was honestly terrified of doing.

Grinding his teeth, he pushed himself to his feet with a sigh as he glanced down at the polished stone. “Tis not the first time I wish you were still with us, old friend…. I daresay you would have given me a running kick to start me on my way.” He gave the stone a gentle stroke of fingers before he vanished with a skyward leap to land on one of Ishgard’s many spires. Making his way across rooftops to the one he could have found with his eyes closed. Ducking down against the wall beside the window as he watched stealthily as an obviously frustrated Lucia scowled at the back of Aymeric’s dark head. “My lord, please… you mustn’t keep this up. You’ll make yourself ill.”

He wasn’t really sure to what she was referring, until he caught Aymeric’s slightly slurred voice. “I’m fine… besides…. It helps.” In his cups, then. Out of character for Aymeric, but then…. Who was he to judge right now. Though he gave a silent prayer of thanks to Lucia as she pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation before wresting the half empty bottle of wine away from her commander. “With all due respect, my lord… No. It doesn’t help. It just helps you to not think about it. That is not at all the same.” With his bottle taken away, blue eyes glared at her before he fumbled his way back to his chair with a scowl. “To not think about what, pray tell? Not think about Estinien? That would be an impossibility, Lucia, for he is _ever_ on my mind and has been ere longer than I can recall. So I ask again, not think about what? About the fact that he is gone? About the fact that I drove him away? Or perhaps you refer to the fact of how repulsive he finds the idea of a permanent arrangement with me? Choose, and then kindly return my wine as none of those thoughts are a thing that I would desire remembering.”

Fury bless Lucia, who didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated as she crossed her arms over her chest. “No, my lord. I will not aid in your continued spiral down into self pity, and if I had the means of it, I would drag that stubborn dragoon of yours here ere the two of you speak like civilized men and find a common ground in this. Unfortunately I cannot do so.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself, Lucia.” He spoke up softly, neither of them having noticed when he stole into the window to stand beside it. A silent shadow in dark armour and cloak. Her eyebrows raised in surprise before her gaze narrowed. Her look plainly communicating that she herself would have words for him at a later date and Estinien simply nodded his head in silent agreement. She cherished Aymeric too, though in a differing way, and he had no doubt that his part in this separation would have earned him an earful. “No doubt you have words for me yourself, but I would ask that you hold them for a future time. Please.”

He so seldom said the word that she blinked in surprise before sighing with a nod. Regardless of exactly what had happened between them, he was here now and hopefully the two could work out whatever differences had separated them to begin with. Turning to once more pick up the wine bottle, she showed herself out before making sure any guards knew that the Lord Commander was not to be disturbed.

With Lucia gone, the silence between them was stifling as they simply stared at each other, Estinien reaching up to tug off his helm and set it aside. Fury be damned, but this was more difficult than facing Nidhogg had been, and he swallowed hard before taking a step forward. “I… I missed you….” One dark eyebrow raised before they drew down into a scowl. “Did you? You have certainly developed quite a strange way of showing it, ser dragoon. The only one keeping you away is yourself, for despite any offerings I have made, tis obvious you do not regard this place as your home. Therefore I will cease making mention of it, as such things are clearly repugnant to you. As is the thought of any kind of futu-”

“Twelves be damned, Aymeric will you _shut up_ so that I can apologize properly?!” He snapped before he could stop himself, squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in a ragged breath. The outburst actually worked, as the somewhat inebriated knight stopped mid sentence to stare at him. Estinien’s shoulders sagged as he leaned against the edge of the desk and raked a hand through overgrown bangs. “I’m sorry….. I…. what I said…. It was cruel to you, and…. And I was a thrice-damned coward who couldn’t bring himself to admit it, and…. I’m sorry. I…. those things are not repugnant to me, my lord….. I…. You are _mine_ , and…. I would shout it to all of Ishgard…..and be proud to…. But I am not you, Aymeric….. I am not the future of Ishgard, I am not….. I do not _matter_ as you do. I…. I cannot….take that future away….. Sully it….”

“The Fury take Ishgard.”

He nearly choked at hearing those quite uncultured words coming from Aymeric, and he leveled a disbelieving stare at the dark-haired man who had risen rather unsteadily from his chair and was still scowling. Though it had lost some of its venom and he now more resembled a pouting adolescent with touseled hair and reddened cheeks. “My lord, did you just…?”

“I said the Fury take Ishgard. It isn’t _Ishgard_ I want to marry, Estinien. You say I am Ishgard’s future… what of _my_ future? Do not I have a say in it? Do not _you_ have a say in it? Of what use is a future of freedom for the people of Ishgard… if I lose you in creating it? If I cannot share it with you? If it cannot be _our_ future?” He took a step towards the dragoon, stumbling into his arms as Estinien closed the distance to pull him into a tight embrace with a soft whimper. Burying his face in dark curls with a sigh. “You have not lost me…. You will never lose me, Aymeric… I’m so sorry, beloved….”

“...as am I. It was wrong of me to push the issue… to not respect your wishes…. So long as I have you, that is all I need….” The reply was slightly muffled, but clear enough as Aymeric returned the tight embrace with a whimpered sob of his own. “... I feared you would never return…. I’m sorry…. We don’t have to speak of it again….” Estinien closed his eyes as he idly rubbed fingertips against his lover’s back and soaked up the closeness that he had so dearly missed. “......it will take some time for me to acquire an appropriate ring, my lord. But….if you would wear it…. I would be honoured.”

“If you mean to give in simply because it is what I wish, then I would have none of it. But if...if it is something you would wish for as well, then….perhaps something private…. More intimate?” That idea hadn’t occurred to the dragoon, and honestly….he didn’t hate it. Private, intimate… yet no less meaningful with the few they considered close there to witness it. Pulling back just enough to press his forehead against Aymeric’s with a soft sigh, he allowed a faint smile to grace his features. “I believe….that I could be quite happy with just such an arrangement, my lord. Although some more homemade tarts would go a long way towards convincing me.” He added the last statement with a teasing tone that earned him a muffled snort of laughter and a slightly snarky reply. “Homemade baked goods are for dragoons who spend the night.”

“Then it is good that I intend to do just that.” He replied with a laugh as he tilted his head down to steal a kiss with another smile.


End file.
